Posted by Ira was delighted. He and his late son, Jacob, had worked well together, and he sorely missed that companionship. Jacob had, had had, a real feel for clockworks seldom needing more than one run through to master a mechanism. He had grown more and more independent, and Ira had been sure, that when the time came, Jacob would be prepared to take over the shop. The Caribbean venture was meant as recognition of Jacob’s accomplishments and a mark of his father’s trust in him. He was still, at times, very sad, but knew he needed to move on. He didn’t know anything of the new couple’s past. Wasn’t sure he wanted to. Hadn’t asked and knew he was taking a chance. The slickness with which Bardine had opened the door had not escaped the watch maker’s notice. Ira would risk money on Peleg having learned his trade from other than a master locksmith. But there was no doubt in Ira’s mind that his new assistant was drawn to the clocks as Ira was and Jacob had been. He felt it strongly. Yes, to be sure, he was taking a chance but was willing to be guided by the change in Peleg when he first approached the walls of clocks. His fingers had been nimble and quick picking up parts from a pile on the bench and examining them. And he had put them down in separate piles that made sense in terms of reassembling the clock then on the bench. Peleg’s questions were direct and sensible and any following question that he asked made it clear to Ira that Peleg had already grasped the information from the previous query. Ira hoped that Peleg had not murdered anyone, at least recently, and had made his daily bread perpetrating only minor burglaries and picking a few locks and pockets. Indeed, Peleg had asked, speculatively of course, whether there was any need in town for a person skilled with locks – repair, installation, and access assistance. This last, “access assistance,” just popped out, but Peleg was quite pleased with it. Ira was non-committal but felt a surge of entrepreneurial gusto at the thought of a small expansion.
By the time a trepidacious Hellcat Maggie Ahearn started up the stairs to the second floor “apartment,” Ira and Peleg had sealed the deal – all the particulars of a wage (very generous), hours and living quarters as well as a promise to at least consider the lock idea. Spotting his paramour on the steps, the ebullient Bardine stepped lively, not quite dancing a jig, across the floor to join her. He had not, he realized too late, seen the second floor himself and briefly chastised himself for being unprepared particularly given Maggie’s misgivings. But the fast-thinking finger-smith tacked quickly and began to regale Maggie with details of the very handsome financial arrangement and free lodging, etc. They arrived at the top of the stairs, and Maggie took her first look. Peleg was fully prepared for Maggie’s usual response to anything that didn’t meet her expectations which, in this case, were already close to the ground. This odd and ominous ritual consisted of Maggie very slowly drawing in a tremendous amount of air beneath which she was able, somehow, to manufacture a low, wind like whistling sound. While Peleg generally recognized and ignored or exploited the irrational, seen or heard, he had an inescapable fear that someday Maggie’s displeasure might lead to her swallowing herself.
Before she could say a word, Peleg said, gently, “You can pick the colors and the carpet and Ira will split the cost of redecorating. We will pay for the curtains so you can choose those too. Obviously, we will have to do some cleaning. Ira will ask around and help us find furniture. He has a bed we can use and there are two wood stoves. What do you think?”
Maggie said yes – agreed to this new situation but wasn’t completely sure what she really thought. She had little doubt that her partner would make a success of the apprenticeship. He was, and had been from an early age, a thief. But even so, his jobs were usually well researched, scoped out and planned. When you came right down to it, strange as it seemed for his line of work, the late Sardine Bardine had a very strong work ethic. Gradually she felt an growing calm driven, perhaps, by a sense of impending permanence. Every night in the same bed? A place to cook their own meals and eventually their own place. Children? Who knew? They were still very young despite years on the game. She remembered wrestling with the idea of going “respectable.” Well, why not? Could it be any worse than jumping a slow freight, hungry, in the pouring rain?
